


Another Reunion

by cassbuttandsquirrel



Series: 14x03 Missing Scene [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cas does a lot of comforting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s14e03 The Scar, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hope, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Missing Scene, No Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Fluff, Whump, basically: dean is sad, getting together in the shower, if people still use that term, it be like that sometimes, just kissing, rated Teen for two nekked boyz, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 13:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16834027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassbuttandsquirrel/pseuds/cassbuttandsquirrel
Summary: Dean's back and he's sending Cas some signals. Will the angel take him up on his offer?(the answer is yes, yes of course)[POV switch]





	Another Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by that one moment when Dean points at Cas after saying that he is going to take a shower.  
> And here we are.  
> As a further note: this fic was supposed to be fluffy, but it became VERY H/C very quick. I also realize that in this current climate of 14x07 more whump and angst might not be what you're looking for and I'm sorry. Best of luck!  
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural or its characters etc etc  
> Further disclaimer: I do love Sam I promise, but I needed to move things along.
> 
> This is the smut-free version of my original one-shot (also titled "Reunion")  
> Link to that fic will be at the bottom of the page

"It ain't no thing"

Just four words and Cas can feel the tension he didn't realise he was holding drain from his shoulders. Dean understands. Of course he would. But still, something was wrong. The most obvious of tells was that Dean had made no move to hug him. And although his eyes were lightened by this reunion, Cas had seen them brighter.

Not as if this dampening of Dean's spirit should come as a surprise to him. The people in this room, himself included, were all remarkably familiar with the experiences and repercussions of possession. Cas worries that perhaps Dean felt as though his stint with Michael was a direct offense to himself - considering the first year of their acquaintance.

Dean is already trying to make up for the lack of physical contact; pleading the need for a shower. Cas understands that too, but he knows that Dean isn't fool enough to think that mere water could rid him of this feeling of violation. Sam is thinking the same thing, clear in the curious glance he sends Cas before nodding to Dean in acquiescence. Cas squints, wondering if maybe this was just Dean's way of escaping his scrutiny but then the old hunter raises his arm to point at the angel before leaving the room.

As soon as Dean left, Sam turned back to Cas to continue talking but Cas was momentarily side swept by Dean's gesture. Did he mean that he would talk to Cas later? Did he mean for Cas to join him? Shaking aside his uncertainty, Cas decides that either way, Dean was clear: he wanted to see him. Cas finishes his conversation with Sam as soon as possible, promising to do pass on whatever he hears from Dean if it pertains to his most recent hellish experience.

Cas walks quickly down the hallway toward Dean’s room. He pushes open the door and Dean is no where to be found. There is also no evidence that Dean had been in the room at all, so Cas takes the initiative to find a change of clothes. Choosing what to wear had always been something fascinating to him. The strange conviction that the decision somehow made an impact on the day was an aspect of human sense-making that Cas had never quite understood. As he is now, Cas has no desire to change from his suit and trenchcoat combination. And even in his brief time graceless, he had not the luxury to indulge in that sort of routine.

Cas is triumphant when he locates the pink and blue overshirt Dean likes the best. He makes quick work of the rest, picking out the softest Henley and pair of jeans of his collection. He piles the folded clothes into his arms and makes his way toward the shower room. As he slips open the door to the showers, Cas is confident that he has not mistaken Dean's offer. The room is already gently swirling with steam and Cas takes a moment to lean against the door and let the soothing sound of the water hitting the tiles wash over him. Even this experience was cleansing in a way. Cas calls out Dean's name despite already knowing which stall he was occupying. Sometimes, he knew, humans want familiarity and now especially, Dean would be unsettled by Cas appearing without warning. "Here!" Dean's voice is gruff Cas feels relief again.

He leaves his shoes and socks by the door and listens to the pat-pat-pat of his bare feet against the cold tile, the air becoming mistier as he approaches the shower stall. There is a small wooden bench along the outside wall of the shower and Cas puts down the dry clothes he was holding.

He's not sure if the soft "Thanks" from Dean has been aloud or just a prayer but suddenly Cas is unsure of his previous assumptions. Maybe bringing the change of clothes was all Dean had meant. He sees the discarded clothes ( _ Michael’s clothes _ ) shoved under the bench and he picks them up frowning. Cas considers taking them away to either burn or throw out but as his straightens he realizes that Dean has turned to look at him. Seeing the look in the man’s eyes Castiel immediately drops the bundle back to the floor as if it is something poisoned. Dean’s shoulders lose their tension as soon as Cas lets go but then the keep on drooping.

Dean looks tired, Cas thinks. Tired, unsettled, sad, defeated. Cas is still frowning and when Dean catches his eyes he can see the uncertainty there too. Muscles are jumping in Dean’s forearm and Cas follows the motion to see a washcloth clenched tightly in the man’s fist and his knuckles are becoming white from effort.

Cas steps closer until tiny drops of water are beading on the tan fabric of his coat and takes the hunter’s hand in his, uncurling the fingers and smoothing out his palm with his thumb. Cas repeats this motion longer than necessary, the steam and noise of the shower making time seem irrelevant. As he moves to replace the washcloth back into Dean’s hand, Dean breaks the silence.

“Hey,” he says quietly. 

Cas straightens to return Dean’s gaze. He shakes his head a little as Cas moves again to replace the cloth.

“I was -” he shifts his weight and his tongue darts out nervously, “- I was hoping that maybe you could, uh, give me a hand.” 

Castiel blinked. “Of course, Dean,” he replied seriously. 

Relief rolls off Dean in a quick wave and he steps back more fully into the spray and Cas sets to work removing his clothes. 

***   
Part of him can’t believe this is happening. What on earth would possess him to invite another man to get into a shower with him. Where they would both be naked. And wet. At this point he should be freaking out, panicking, sweating,  _ something _ . But all of these reactions feel beyond him, floating away on the steam wafting towards the ceiling and clinging to the damp tiles. Even when Cas signals his proximity with a warm brief hand sliding across his shoulder, his heart only gives one nervous stutter and with the next breath he is calm again. 

Perhaps calm wasn’t the right word. Numb was probably more accurate. But in his life, living crisis to crisis, perhaps these two words had become synonymous. At this moment, with hot beads of water exploding against him in a rhythm that seemed to dizzyingly quicken with every thought, he can’t really remember who he was. He doesn’t know who he is now.  _ Dean  _ would not have made the decisions that have now culminated with Cas’s hands on his head, rinsing suds from his hair and pressing fingers into his scalp. Would he? 

Cas tugs lightly on his shoulder, and he follows dumbly - turning to face the other man and letting the water heat his back which he recognises now was cold, as the skin prickles uneasily under the spray. As soon as the angel’s face comes in view, something happens. There in those blue eyes he sees himself. There is something filling his chest, something warm and bitter and heady and the unexpected force of it makes him feel lightheaded. The blue eyes narrow and he thinks he can taste salt in the water running down his face as his tongue flicks out unbidden. The hand on his shoulder tightens its grip and Cas’s lips are moving.

“Dean.” 

Yes. Yes of course - Dean. 

Dean blinks hard as he comes back to himself. It's the strangest feeling one that Dean imagines to be similar to what Baby must experience when he turns her key in the ignition. His dash lights are blinking back to life and the radio kicks in as Dean feels his heart rate double. There’s the cold douse of panic beginning to creep up his neck, but then Cas’s hand is there too - palm hot against the knotted muscles and Dean breathes. 

“Hey, Cas,” he attempts a smile and the wrinkles in the angel’s forehead begin to fade, but he can still see the concern in his eyes. “Sorry,” he offers, “I don’t -” He can feel a new terror swirling in his stomach “I’m not -”

“Dean,” Cas repeats, interrupting, “It’s okay.” He slides his hand down Dean’s arm to press their fingers together. “I understand that showers can be particularly notorious for sparking dissociative fugues.”

Dean wants to laugh. Laugh because he is a shower holding hands with another man who is spouting psychobabble and Dean is listening to him. Dean wants to cry. Cry because he wasn’t there enough for Sam when he came back from being possessed by the Devil and cry because he wasn’t there  _ at all  _ for the literal angel in front of him when he came back. The regret is thick at the back of Dean’s throat but Cas is shaking his head, droplets of water slinging away from his dripping hair. Even though he doesn’t speak, Dean knows what Cas means. 

And more than that, Dean knows he’s right. If there is one thing that a life of hunting has taught him it’s that you can’t undo trauma. However the look in the angel’s eyes adds something else to their conversation that for a moment takes Dean’s breath away. Normally he would still fight, probably say something about why he didn’t deserve this … attention from Cas. But he is exhausted, and arguing takes effort, and he so badly wants to believe that he is worthy of Cas’s ... _ care _ . 

Cas huffs as if exasperated and moves away from him, taking the discarded washcloth and lathering it up with lavender-scented soap. He crouches to kneel on the white tiles and reaches for Dean’s calf, lifting it and placing Dean’s right heel in the palm of his hand. Dean lets his eyes drift shut and focuses solely on the sensations around him. The water a comforting pressure against the tops of his shoulders. Cas’s hands firm and warm. The softness of the cotton passing between his toes. The lavender. 

Dean jerks when Cas reaches the back of his knees, and doesn’t fight the high-pitched giggle when Cas looks up anxiously. 

"Shit, sorry. Just, um, a little ticklish," Dean apologises, tipping his lips in a small grin.

"That's alright, Dean," Castiel responds, taking the apology more seriously than Dean had intended, "Most people are. Its the high concentration of Meissner's corpuscles that make certain areas of the body more sensitive to touch than others." 

"Fuckin' nerd," Dean mutters, but his grin grows. 

Cas returns to his work, switching to focus on Dean’s left foot and continuing upward. 

This time Dean doesn’t close his eyes, but watches the ministrations of the crouched man before him. Castiel’s head is bowed in concentration and Dean idly marvels at angel’s balance as he sits unwaveringly on his haunches, all his weight supported on his toes. 

Cas is fucking gorgeous, and Dean knows it. 

He lets himself get distracted by the dripping water forming rivulets down Castiel’s back. He focuses on that same feeling of - he admits it -  _ love _ that had anchored back into his own head as it blooms against his rib cage and pushes gently at the base of his throat. On any other day Dean would have been very much distracted by a different growing problem, but Dean figured it would probably be a bit until that part of him came back online. PTSD was always a bitch.

All-in-all it gave him a heck of an opportunity; to enjoy this type of closeness with Cas without having to complicate it with an awkward conversation or even worse any sort of reckless urges that he will absolutely regret. 

Not as if this entire scenario was brought on by a reckless urge. 

Fucking shit. Dean feels his heart rate spike as he chastises himself. Why in the name of all that is good had he pointed at Cas back in the kitchen. Because of some pathetic longing for someone to touch him? To take care of him? To just  _ be  _ with him? 

Dean tears his eyes away from the angel to stare angrily at the white-tiled wall. He was weak, he realises and a self-pitying piece of - 

Suddenly all Dean can see is blue. 

“Dean.” Cas slowly presses his forehead against his, gaze steady and unyielding. 

His hands are heavy and warm against Dean’s stubble and for a moment he thinks about how nice it would be for them to be there all the time. 

“None of that.” The angel’s voice is serious and Dean can swear he feels a pulse of grace from those fingertips, releasing the tension in his shoulders. 

There are definitely tears on his cheeks now, and Cas knows it too - swiping away both bath water and teardrops indiscriminately with his thumbs. 

Castiel sighs and Dean feels the puff of breath on his own lips. Dean thinks about how easy it would be to kiss Cas and is surprised to realise that he doesn’t want to. Right now at this particular moment, he would rather enjoy simply being here with Cas than anything else. Too late Dean realises he’s frowning and Cas has begun to move away and his hands drop from his face to his shoulders.

Dean makes a noise that he’d rather not repeat and tries to follow Cas’s forehead with his own, when suddenly the angel’s grip tightens on his right shoulder to the point of pain. 

“What is this?” 

“Cas, just -”

“What is this?”

“I -” his voice is resigned when he continues, “I dunno, man.”

The fight drains from Cas’s eyes and Dean can see his own uncertainty reflected there.

“Well,” Cas says as he bends down briefly, “I guess we’ll have to visit the library.” He lathers more soap onto the retrieved washcloth and speaks softly as he washes the blemished shoulder with as much care as any part of Dean before, “We’ll recruit Sam too,” He works his way down to Dean’s wrist, “and maybe even Jack.” 

Dean can tell Cas is smiling even though his face is tilted away. 

“Team Free Will Two-Point-O.” Cas’s eyes are alight and Dean’s pretty sure he’s crying again. 

He tries to think of ways to lighten the mood with comments about never talking about Sam or Jack when they’re both  _ naked for Chuck’s sake _ \- but all he can think about is how incredibly lucky he is to have somehow ended up in this position. And suddenly all he can think about is how stupid they’ve been this whole time and sure maybe they haven’t kissed and maybe they haven’t talked about this but  _ this _ \- whatever  _ this  _ is -  _ this  _ is what they were meant to be. And Dean feels that he should reciprocate and that he  _ must  _ reciprocate but Cas is turning off the water and tugging him out of the shower and placing a towel into Dean’s grasping hands and he feels his certainty drain. Dean recognises the expression on the angel’s face. He remembers a time at the dawn of the Apocalypse when looking at Cas was like looking into the face of the sun, full of heat and fury and purpose. 

Cas takes the towel from his hands, displeased with how slow the hunter is moving (which, Dean will protest later, was not that slow at all and he was doing his best, fuck-you very much) and practically tackles Dean with the terrycloth. There’s a moment when the towel is fully covering his face as Castiel tousels his damp hair and then he slows and slides the fabric back until its gathered at Dean’s neck. Dean lets himself stare at the angel’s face as if it is the only thing in the world. Cas is tugging his face forward with the help of the towel and Dean follows willingly, letting his eyes slip closed as Cas presses the sweetest kiss Dean’s ever experienced against his lips. Cas hadn't really accounted for noses so it’s a little awkward but Dean loves it. 

He loves it. 

He loves it. 

Cas is already pulling away and turning to pick up his clothes from the bench where he placed them. 

“Hey!” Dean catches Cas’s upper arm roughly and he’s frowning again as he jerks Castiel back around. There was no way that smug bastard was gonna get the last word on this subject. When he loses his grip he can see the mischievous look in those blue eyes and he cups a hand against that cheek. He returns the kiss just as softly, mouth closed, but head tilted to show Cas how it’s done. 

Dean quickly slips his hand to the back of Cas’s neck to enjoy the slippery chill of his still damp hair before the angel pulls away. 

Just as he had expected the kiss is short, but Castiel is still close enough that Dean can feel the puffs of warm breath against his lips. He keeps his eyes shut, not caring too much to open them - maybe if they just stayed like this time would stop existing.

Cool air swirls between them as Cas moves away fully and Dean is just opening his eyes when he stumbles from a faceful of denim. He sputters, clawing it away and reorients himself to see the angel fully dressed and striding purposefully toward the exit. 

“I’m calling Sam to the kitchen,” he throws over his shoulder, voice rough. 

He pauses with a hand on the doorknob to and turns to face Dean, who is still clutching his jeans in his fists. 

“We’re going to get this  _ thing _ off you, or so help me, I will pull Michael into the Empty myself.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this fic!!  
> If you did, please leave some kudos (or even a comment!!) and have a wonderful rest of your day!  
> Here is the link to the smut fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457381  
> You can also find it through my author profile of course! =)


End file.
